My hairdresser's good...

My hairdresser's good.

I don't mean fancy with the scissors or skilled in the art of hair dying good, I mean downright good in the sense that she always says exactly what I need to hear. No, not the line of BS that hairstylists serve to boost your confidence as they chop a terrifying four inches off your head. I mean that my hairdresser knows so well exactly what I need to hear, that I consider paying her for a therapy session in additon to my cut and color.

Back in June I blogged about how Becky Cragun was an answer to my prayers; a person placed in my path to tell me exactly what I needed to hear at the time. Three months later my worries have transformed and my situation has changed, but Becky has remained a rock to ground me, to reach out and use to steady myself when I'm floundering about.

Has your hairdresser ever made you cry?

I don't mean tears of haircut regret or a coloring job gone bad, I mean tears of relief and astonishment that someone could understand so well that you wonder if your deepest secrets had been stamped across your face.

It seems like this has happened a lot lately. People seep out of the woodwork, full of consoling words perfectly said. When constant worries are swatted away like flies, I begin to question the pattern of answers, but the source always becomes clear.

Ask and ye shall receive...

When I kneel down to ask for comfort and guidance, I forget that a higher power places people along our path to address even those deepest and darkest concerns. Sometimes a single person can be that answer. Other times it takes a series of answers and a good amount of faith to overthrow a mountain of distress.

Yesterday I left Becky's salon with a clear perspective and a head of freshly fixed locks.

My hairdresser's that good.